Swearing in silence, Chill gingerly picked up the drink after Howie, who was one of the invitees, and the guy called Torcher had both exited the large bathroom. With one long look at me, he put it to his lips, and slowly and steadily drank it down.
He gasped and dropped the glass. I smoothly intercepted it in mid-fall and put it back on the bar as he wavered there. Multi-colored glows started under the skin of his head, ran down his throat, into his arms, plunged down his sides and back, went down his legs as he trembled. Then they gathered in his chest and abdomen, pulsing orange and purple under his shirt.
I pointed. He jerked, and sprinted for the bathroom door.
It took him a good minute to get everything out of his system, and the sounds as he did so were definitely interesting to hear.
When he finally stumbled out, he looked like a man who’d just had hot sex six times over.
“Cleans the system right out. Better than morning coffee,” I told him placidly as he looked at me. “Took all the other alcohol out with it, by the way. Oh, and it’s about the most relaxing piss you’re ever going to have.”
“Goddamn right it was.” The sniper took a deep breath, blinking hard as he walked back to his chair and sat down. “Fuck. I just paid someone so I could piss away a hundred bucks, and it was worth it.” He definitely couldn’t believe it.
“You got one of those for taking a shit, too?” the fifth merc, a Chinglish Core-user called Chopsaw, spoke up.
“The pasta variant will set you back two grand, and is not advised for anyone not at least twenty pounds overweight.”
Howitzer suddenly looked pretty interested. “Fast weight loss?” he piped up in disbelief.
“No different than instant hangover cure. But you can’t store either one, it’s eat ‘em on the spot or don’t make them,” I replied, looking over them all. “Any other drinks, gentlemen?”
“You got a fifty-dollar martini?” Needles asked.
“You’ll have five minutes to drink it, but sure.”
He set a c-note on the table. “I’ll take one now, and one at the next break.”
I reached for the vermouth and gin, and lightning crackled around my fingers.
======
Back to the Present...
“This might just scare them away into not being assholes.” I waved Mr. Hill’s business card at him.
“Your call. You put on a good show. Word is gonna get out. Soon’s it’s common knowledge that you deal for private folks in the underground, a lot of people won’t touch you.”
That was true. If I wanted to do something, I definitely had to do it quickly. After that point, I’d basically be making money Dealing, or acquiring some income through other methods.
Of course, I’d had a couple of weeks to Level at this point, get a foundation under me, and get stuff done. Yeah, I hadn’t been able to improve my Gear much, but I had time in the future to accumulate goldweight by one means or another, so I simply sat back and let my Levels stack up.
There really is nothing like feeling yourself getting stronger every day, while lounging around and reading books about an Earth that took a wild divergence from standard history because a certain Hag and Ancient managed to get themselves born here because of some arcane shenanigans.
In short, I was now the equivalent of an experienced hero, if not a veteran one. Sixteen days meant sixteen Levels, sixteen Feats and more, and forty-eight Mastery advances.
If my memory served me right, I was ten Levels at Nine. That meant that, with the three Classes given to me, I could hit Eleven in my Primary and Ten in two others.
From what I could tell, most heroes went straight up the primary tree to superhuman status, and only after they reached that point did they start going sideways at all. Given the body count and injuries on the way, it wasn’t surprising. Some never did and just stuck with their specialty, getting better and stronger at their shtick, driving everyone else to do the same.
In essence, making themselves more Archetypical and Tropish.
I was going to get exceedingly competent Levels-wise within a month or two, and I was still going to be a kid.
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Well, whatever. Nobody had to know how truly competent I was, after all...
I wagged the pawnshop’s card. “Let’s see if I flush anything. If not, then it’s just advertising for me...”
------
Vampires.
My lip quirked as I made my way through their minions. These Drinkers were bound to their masters by blood. They were tougher and faster than normal folks, like Cored, but incapable of disobeying their masters, and their souls were already going black and foul.
I didn’t have to declare much. They went through the case I brought, which was basically full of playing cards still in their wrappers. One burly sot made noises about inspecting each deck for explosives, and I slapped his hands away from them loudly.
“Break the seals, and I have to go buy another set of cards, and that will delay the game.” I presented him the purchase receipt from the Shel-Mart. “They are cards, and I am The Dealer.”
He looked at my ivory mask that only revealed my eyes and wasn’t being held in place by anything. The croupier’s outfit was a white blouse and form-fitting black corset with black pants. My complete lack of fear at their looming presence was having more effect on them than my looks. They would have sensed any hint of nervousness, and instead they were feeling... a threat?
Like good wolves meeting a lion, they backed off after some grumbling and noises.
Four men and two women, all vampires, were sitting at the table. The light was dimmed and there were no reflective surfaces, but it couldn’t conceal their utter lack of shadows.
They concealed their hunger well as I walked about, but I was watching and saw the confusion flicker across their eyes at my lack of fear and the very cool presence they could feel coming off of me. Hints of charm magic wafted at me, and my thoughts crackled and sent them back.
I couldn’t develop a psionic Core here, probably because of the Pact, but I already had a Webbed Matrix. That set me up as an anti-psion, and specifically allowed the anti-mindbending defenses open to Nega-Psions.
I had naturally invested in that full Mastery, and anything trying to get into my head was going to suffer for it!
Negapsi Mastery/1, +2 to all saves against psionic effects or charm/telepathy effects. /2, raise the cost of all telepathic attacks by a Valence or equivalent, or it fails. /3, unwanted psionic contact generates a 2-12 damage backlash in Reprisal. /4, on a successful save, the telepathic assault is turned back upon its originator. /5, the Reprisal damage is increased to 4-24.
Feat, Negapsi Reprisal: Add your Wrath and/or Reserve damage to your Reprisal damage.
Crackle, crackle...
I’d Warded Vier, so they couldn’t sense the magic on my Ring, and I was also Warded myself... and I could get a bunch more magical defenses against them up right quick, if needed.
“Ladies, gentlemen, I am The Dealer, and I’ve been contracted to deal this game. My dealing is neutral, and my deck is neutral.” I popped out my first deck, fanned it for them, delighting them at the display of my dexterity, and the dealing soon began.
------
Soon enough they noticed I wasn’t throwing a shadow, either, and that spread in whispers, as I was certainly alive.
They were all good-looking, taken in their prime, and even looked suitably tanned and bronzed, as they had when they died. Their skin would still pale over time, but for now they were dashing and glamorous and forever young... and very powerful.
I burned three decks over the course of the first hour when they bent or otherwise marked the cards, the gesture drawing the ridiculing gazes of the other vampires at the one responsible for the gaff, even when I said nothing.
Stakes were respectable, looked like twenty-five buy-in, with additional buy-ins allowed as required. I ‘ignored’ their eyes and glances and conversation, staying focused on the cards and the dealing.
One of the younger and weaker vampires finally got impatient and reached out to try dominating my mind. His mental cascade of subversive dark desires and erotic images fried and burned and he jerked in his chair, bleeding bright red out his nose at the Reprisal... which I restrained myself on, and didn’t react in the slightest to.
The other vampires glanced at one another, wondered what they were dealing with (heh heh), and the night went on.
------
It was 4 AM, and reasonably, this party was drawing to a close. The winners and losers were already apparent, and two of the vampires, including the idiot who had tried to dominate me, had been driven from the game. They hadn’t taken any breaks in play, so neither had I, but I didn’t show any signs of being tired, either.
“So, do you have any talents other than dealing cards, Miss Dealer?” the oldest of the vampires, who looked exactly the same age as the rest of them, asked, giving me an easily charming smile of perfect teeth and flawless dark hair. He didn’t look like he dominated the table, but his Aura was definitely higher than all of the others.
Not a Master Vampire, but senior to all of those here. Afraspanic ancestry, looked like.
“I am a decent bartender, sir,” I replied calmly, dealing him his preflop combo. While I could calculate odds instantly, I actually didn’t know what the cards were after I Sealed the deck. He inspected them like a veteran player, lifting up the corners once and letting them lie.
The preflop street ended with everyone calling to the big blind, nobody raising. I dealt the flop 3H-7S-JC and waited calmly.
I could see the Drinkers moving into position slowly, cutting off any avenues of retreat for me, but my unconcealed lack of concern for such matters was only making the invisible tension rise faster.
The flop went past, and chips were pushed into the pot, which was now exceeding fifty thousand and meant to clean at least one of them out.
“Oh? Any specialties, Miss Dealer? Daiquiris or martinis?” the lead vampire asked affably as the 3D Turn came over and the posturing before the River began. One of the women folded in disgust, her chips almost empty, leaving her cards as she got up from the table.
“Nothing in particular, sir. The tailor-made ones seem to be the most popular, but they are also the most expensive.”
His Aura nudged up against mine, my mental defenses crackled, and he backed away with a thoughtful expression as my eyes didn’t waver.
I turned over the 6C River, and the final street began. The elder actually wasn’t the one in the commanding position, the other woman having gotten luckier, and she ruthlessly bid up the limit of the blind, radiating confidence.
It was the final hand, and then time for the showdown after the Showdown.